


fall into the deep

by imagines



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: College AU, Getting Back Together, Life Drawing, M/M, Old Flames, high school sweethearts, keith is the model
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 22:24:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18973759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagines/pseuds/imagines
Summary: Shiro's been staring at Keith, he realizes with a jolt. Keith, who’s staring back. Keith, who was always quick to speak, can’t seem to get a word out now. There’s still no one else in the classroom, which won’t last much longer. “Hi,” Shiro tries. They haven’t spoken since Shiro got on that plane, and he can’t begin to guess how familiar he should be.“Hi.” Keith steps closer, but not too close. The distance between them is a canyon cracked wide by time and swallowing everything they’d wanted with each other. Shiro would risk his heart, leap over that yawning gap, if he knew Keith wanted him to. But Keith’s eyes speak a different language now, one Shiro can no longer read.





	fall into the deep

****Shiro arrives at day one of another life drawing class, and the guy standing in the middle of the room turns around, and it’s _Keith_. Shiro’s heart crashes to the concrete floor and shatters all over again. He briefly considers turning around and walking back out, but Keith has already noticed him, his deep blue eyes flying wide.

Two years ago, they’d attended Shiro’s senior prom and spent the night swaying to slow ballads in each other’s arms, knowing they were almost done. Shiro was heading to one side of the country for art and astronomy, and in another year, Keith would go the opposite direction. He’d gotten a full ride to a writing program, and Shiro was so proud of him it almost drowned out the creeping ache of losing him. Once, Shiro brought up the idea of a long-distance relationship—and only once, because Keith shot it down hard. “Wouldn’t be fair to you,” he'd said, and he wouldn’t change his mind. Shiro hadn't wanted to waste the last of their time together in a fight over it, so they spent those final weeks just holding on to each other, only letting go at the gate to Shiro’s flight.

He’s been staring at Keith, he realizes with a jolt. Keith, who’s staring back. Keith, who was always quick to speak, can’t seem to get a word out now. There’s still no one else in the classroom, which won’t last much longer. “Hi,” Shiro tries. They haven’t spoken since Shiro got on that plane, and he can’t begin to guess how familiar he should be.

“Hi.” Keith steps closer, but not too close. The distance between them is a canyon cracked wide by time and swallowing everything they’d wanted with each other. Shiro would risk his heart, leap over that yawning gap, if he knew Keith wanted him to. But Keith’s eyes speak a different language now, one Shiro can no longer read.

The door bangs open—Keith jumps—their little bubble bursts, and other students start filing in. Shiro’s had this professor before, and she’s usually a few minutes late—some people use it as an excuse to stop for coffee, but Shiro normally takes the extra time to set up his gear and start warming up. Today, he may as well spend it trying to catch up with his oldest of old flames. His _only_ old flame, if he’s being honest. “I don’t remember you drawing,” he comments.

Keith shrugs. “I draw a little.”

“Cool.” Shiro looks around for a good place to stand. “Can’t wait to see. Where’s your stuff?” Maybe they can talk during class.

“Um,” Keith says, and then Dr. Ryu hurries through the door, blowing her long dark hair out of her face. There’s a smudge of graphite on her cheek, which is normal, and she’s heading straight for Keith and shaking his hand, which is…less normal. “Morning,” Keith says to her. “Ready for me?”

“Give me about five minutes for introductions, and then we should be good.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Keith glances at Shiro. “See you in a minute, Shiro.”

It begins to dawn on Shiro what’s happening here, and his suspicions are confirmed when Keith ducks into the little room that all the models use to change. Keith is...not here to draw.

“Shiro?” Dr. Ryu frowns at him. “You look flushed—are you okay?”

“Just a bit warm,” he gets out. “I’m fine.”

“Well, go on and find a place to set up. I think you’ll really enjoy today’s class.”

If there’s something specific he’s meant to enjoy, he’s never clear on what it is, because a rushing in his ears starts as soon as Keith drops his robe and steps up onto the platform. Everything narrows to the soft vine charcoal in his fingers and the figure in front of him that’s already so familiar, he could draw it with his eyes closed.

Gestures first. Shiro works at reducing Keith to form and shadow, following the lines of his body in sixty-second stretches, but he gets hung up on the white starburst of a scar on Keith’s left hip—a memento of the first time he’d gone mountain biking with Shiro, when Shiro was still dreaming of asking him out. Keith had taken a corner too sharply and gone skidding down a gravel-studded hill on his side, spraining his wrist and breaking his collarbone. Shiro had felt so guilty for asking Keith to go along, he waited on Keith’s every whim for the next six weeks—carrying his backpack at school, fetching him food at lunch, and dropping by his house in the evening in case he needed help typing up his homework.

“I’m pretty much healed up,” Keith told him one night, and Shiro said he understood, and maybe he’d run into Keith at school sometime? Keith had reached out—his grip as strong as before he’d busted his wrist—and grabbed Shiro by the collar of his T-shirt. “No, asshole, I mean if you want to keep seeing me, you’re going to have to come up with another reason.”

“Oh,” said Shiro, uncomprehending, and then “ _Oh_ ” again, when Keith kissed him on the mouth and Shiro finally got it.

That was Keith’s freshman year, and their time together felt charmed, endless, right up to the moment Shiro opened the acceptance letter that would send him thousands of miles away from Keith.

So it’s a wonder he’s managing to draw anything at all, what with his vision blurring and his hands shaking.

“Next one’s our long pose for the day,” Dr. Ryu announces, and Keith settles himself into a reclining pose while she adjusts the spotlights above him. He’s lying on his side, facing Shiro’s half of the room, although he’s looking at a blank spot high on the wall. Small mercies. Hoping he doesn't look _too_ besotted, Shiro renders the sharp line of Keith's hipbone and his slender wrists. Every twenty minutes, he's granted respite while Keith shakes out his limbs and sips water, still not looking at Shiro.

When class ends, Keith slips away into the side room again, and Shiro stuffs his materials back in his bag and flees.

* * *

With his midterm astronomy paper looming, Shiro holes up on the fourth floor of the library one morning in March, fueled by lattes and danishes from the tiny coffee shop downstairs. He’s studying a star map spread out on a table, when--“Hey,” someone says, tapping his shoulder.

Shiro turns, his heart constricting. “Hey yourself,” he says to Keith, whose hair is scraped back in a messy ponytail, his gaze as unreadable as it was in that first class. “Sorry, I didn’t think anyone else was up here.” Usually the fourth floor is empty, with perhaps an exhausted student or two catching a nap on the long couches.

“I can leave you alone. Was just heading to work.” Keith jerks a thumb over his shoulder at a doorway. The placard next to it reads SPECIAL COLLECTIONS.

“You work in the library? Uh, also?”

There’s a flicker of a smile across Keith’s lips. “I do a lot of things around this place. I am a man of many talents.”

“Well, you’re definitely very good at…sitting still.”

The smile grows bigger. “Heh. Hey, it’s decent money, and I can plot my next story while I bask in the glow of a space heater. You sure took off quick that day, by the way.”

“I didn’t know you were here,” Shiro says. He doesn’t ask: _why didn’t you try to find me?_ Might not be an answer he wants to know. Or an answer Keith knows at all.

“I transferred. Had some problems out in California. Just needed to be somewhere else. My dad’s pretty disappointed.”

Keith’s a master at glazing over his pain. Shiro’s had too much practice seeing beneath the facade. “It sounds like you’re doing the right thing for yourself. I’m glad.”

“Yeah? Well, thanks, Shiro. That’s real nice of you. So what have you been up to since graduation? Seeing anyone?” He asks it casually, as if the answer doesn’t matter to him in the slightest. But Keith had never liked making pointless small talk before.

“Haven’t really had time to date.” Shiro hadn’t felt like making time at first, too heartsick to try. Then it just became easier to focus on his coursework instead. “You?”

“Coupla times. Nothing stuck.” Then Keith looks at his watch and hisses. “Shit, I gotta go. But—Shiro, it really is good to see you again.”

Shiro could say something—ask him to lunch, just to talk—but the words die in his throat. It’s entirely by chance that Keith happened to be working in Shiro’s class or on the floor where Shiro likes to study. Keith had been the one to end things, and Keith has yet to seek Shiro out on purpose, so he probably wants things to _stay_ ended. “Good to see you too,” he tells Keith, aware this is a kind of goodbye.

Shiro studies on the third floor after that.

* * *

All goes well in the realm of Avoiding Keith, until a class near the end of the semester when Keith’s filling in again. Dr. Ryu hangs Shiro’s three-hour drawing on the wall as an example, to Shiro’s complete mortification. “I want you to notice the emotionality here,” she tells the class. “The model’s gaze is so direct, you almost feel like _you’re_ the one under scrutiny, not him. Beautiful work, Shiro. Such marvelous attention to detail as always. The eyelashes and lips—”

Her voice fades, Shiro’s attention wandering. Keith is robed and perching on a stool, which he does sometimes, absorbing the lesson along with the rest of them. He’s feigning studying his fingernails, but Shiro catches him sneaking glances at the drawing on the wall. The direct gaze is Keith’s fault; unlike the first day, he’d been looking right at Shiro this time. It had taken a lot of effort for Shiro to keep his expression neutral.

Dr. Ryu is unpinning Shiro’s drawing. “Remember, all of you need one full-body portrait completed outside of class for your end-of-semester portfolio! If you haven’t found a subject yet, let me know so I can put you in touch with one of the school models.”

Shiro has not found a subject yet. And he could ask someone else to pose for him, but Keith’s _right there_ , and it’s easy to tell himself this is just more convenient. Keith will probably say no anyway, and then Shiro will text a different model. “Hey,” he says after class, before Keith can hurry out the door. “Do you think I could hire you for a day? Just for my portfolio. Would that be weird?”

“Shiro, you’ve already seen me naked _so many_ times. Before this class, even. It won’t be weird. Give me your phone, I’ll put in my number.”

Shiro hands over his phone, too late realizing his mistake as Keith’s eyes widen.

“You still _have_ my number.”

“No reason to delete it,” Shiro mutters. “Besides, you might've changed it.”

“Did you change yours?”

Shiro has not; he’s too attached to his childhood area code.

Keith grins, though he’s looking at the floor and not at Shiro. “Well, I still have your number, too. It’s no big deal.”

_It’s no big deal_ , Shiro repeats to himself that evening, pacing in his dorm room as he psychs himself up to text Keith. It’s no big deal that both of them left open the chance to contact each other again.

* * *

They arrange to meet at Keith’s apartment the next Saturday morning. When Shiro arrives, Keith answers the door to his apartment barefoot and wearing the same velvety gray robe Shiro’s seen at class. His hair is damp, the scent of spice and oranges clinging to him. “Hey, Shiro. Come on in.”

A familiar-looking black cat sprawls across Keith’s couch like black ink. Shiro stares. “Is that—”

“Onyx? Sure is. She’s seven now. You want coffee or something?”

“Just water would be fine.” Shiro’s already close to trembling from Keith’s proximity; coffee would do him no favors.

“I’ve got that strawberry green tea you always liked,” Keith offers.

_Weekend mornings, cross-legged on Keith’s bed, mug of warm tea in his hands and ball of warm cat in his lap…_ Shiro hasn’t forgotten, and he can’t help the little thrill that runs down his spine at the thought that Keith hasn’t either. “You know what? I’d love that.”

Keith pours them both some tea, then leads Shiro to the large window to set up. “Did you have a pose in mind or should I make something up?”

“I was just thinking of an atmosphere, I guess. Daydreaming? Longing?”

“I can do that,” Keith says. “Give me a second.” He shrugs off his robe and drapes it over the back of a chair.

Shiro looks down at his paper and busies himself adjusting its alignment, even though the edges are already perfectly straight.

Keith hops up into the wide windowsill to arrange himself. “This okay?” His chin rests against his hand, and he’s looking out the window with an unfocused gaze, as if entranced by an internal universe.

“Perfect,” Shiro says, because it is; because Keith is. Well, he'd always had a bad habit before of underestimating the effect Keith would have on him; why should that be different now?

The hours pass like a relentless current, paused only by breaks for Keith to stretch.

“I think I’m done,” Shiro says, when he’s satisfied with the drawing.

“Awesome.” Keith hops down from the windowsill and wraps himself up in his robe again. “Hey, I’m starving. You wanna maybe get breakfast?”

“It’s almost noon.”

“Brunch, then.”

“Since when are you the brunch type?

“People change. Come on, I know a great diner. My treat,” Keith wheedles, not that he needs to, because Shiro already would have followed him anywhere.

God, this old flame thing is going to be a _problem_. Shiro reminds himself that they were a thing only in the past, and right now, he’ll be lucky if they end up even just friends again.

Keith’s restaurant of choice is approximately the size of a shoebox, with bar seating crammed almost up against the grill. Between the chatter of the patrons and the clattering from the kitchen, they don’t get much talking done, but Keith was right about the food being fantastic. Shiro wolfs down two orders of the cheeseburger combo _and_ a slice of apple pie that is literally the size of his face.

Afterward, Keith leads them on an oddly roundabout route back to his home for Shiro to pick up his things, walking without the slightest bit of hurry and claiming it’s so Shiro has time to finish the chocolate malt Keith got him to go.

Shiro has to keep his eyes on the sidewalk, because the sun is throwing indigo highlights into Keith’s hair and it’s making the back of Shiro’s throat ache in a way that has nothing to do with his ice-cold drink.

At Keith’s apartment, Shiro gathers his supplies, and Keith stays quiet until Shiro puts his hand on the doorknob to leave.

“Shiro.”

Shiro turns, and there’s Keith, only a few feet away. “Yeah?”

Keith's arms are folded tight across his chest, and he’s looking up at Shiro through his eyelashes, lips pressed tight.

Shiro has spent the last few months trying to set aside his own wishes, not wanting to overwhelm Keith or make him uncomfortable. But Keith sure looks overwhelmed and uncomfortable right now. “Something on your mind?” he asks, knowing Keith may not feel able to open up to him, hoping Keith might find it in himself to let Shiro in again. All he wants—all he’s ever wanted—is for Keith to be happy.

“I kind of—I really wanna—kiss you right now. You don’t have to say yes,” Keith adds. “I just—I’m gonna miss you, you know, I just found you again and now it’s the end of the year. My timing’s awful, huh?”

Shiro's starting to think that maybe Keith’s been hiding what he wants, too. “I’m not going anywhere. I was going to get an apartment here this summer.”

The hope in Keith’s eyes is a brand against Shiro’s soul. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. So…” Focus on Keith, on his gaze that lights Shiro up from the inside out just like always, on his parted lips and stuttering breaths. Focus on the boy to whom his heart has forever belonged; the boy who, maybe, has never stopped loving him back. “I really wanna kiss you too. Can I?”

“Always the gentleman,” Keith says, and pounces.

Keith kisses like a storm surge, and Shiro lets himself capsize. He can’t touch Keith, because Keith is gripping his wrists and holding them at Shiro’s sides against the door; and he can’t think of anything but how badly he _wants_ to touch, because Keith is licking sweetly into his mouth and Shiro feels like he’s swallowed fire. He’s in deep, but Keith would never let him drown.

“You never called me, or texted me, or anything,” Keith says, when he finally lets Shiro up for air. He doesn’t sound pissed, but he does want answers: “Why?”

This conversation has been hanging on the horizon all semester, like a threatening storm, but Shiro’s always kept a safe place standing by, and there’s room for them both. “You wanted to break up. I thought I should leave you alone—was that wrong?”

Keith lets go of his wrists and clutches the front of Shiro’s T-shirt instead. Shiro immediately wraps his arms around Keith, who leans into him as if they’d never parted ways. “You’re too _good_ ,” Keith says. “I guess I hoped you’d come after me. Make me explain myself. But you’re not that kind of person, are you? If someone says they want space, you give it. I’m the one who fucked it up. No, I _did_ ,” he insists, when Shiro starts to protest. “I wasn’t honest with you. Back then, I wasn’t great at saying how I felt. Still not the best at it.”

Shiro leans down, pressing his forehead against Keith’s. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not really. I wish I’d just—god, Shiro, I don’t know. I’m so sorry.”

“It _is_ okay,” Shiro presses, “because you have all the time you need with me. So however you feel—I’ll be here, when you’re able to say it. It’s just good to have you back.”

Keith looks up at Shiro, the arcane depths of his heart laid open in his gaze. “It’s good to be back.”

Shiro could spend years studying everything under the twilight ocean of Keith’s eyes, and he thinks this time, Keith’s ready to let him enter the waves.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally for a zine that didn't happen; it was time to get it out of my WIP folder. :p
> 
> Come say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/belovedsheith)! <3


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